


Turn Tidbits

by just_a_dram



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Marriage of Convenience, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3950572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_a_dram/pseuds/just_a_dram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles written for Turn</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His wife admits a fortnight into the marriage, the one they contracted in order to keep her safe from the charges she so vehemently denied as false, that she is no Loyalist.

His beautiful, strong wife is a patriot. Worse yet, a spy. Anna is guilty of everything they accused her of and more. She is a traitor to the king and his wife.

The marriage is unconsummated. He knew from the start that she accepted his offer not out of any great affection for him. Expediency brought them together, and he has no desire to take advantage of the situation. He believed himself to be acting honorably, waiting most hopefully for her to develop tender feelings, but there was never any question of fresh intimacy between them. The union is a mere formality, a farce, in spite of the pleasant evenings they spend at the harpsichord, playing charmingly stilted duets, and the early mornings, when she reads aloud to him before he must begin his day in earnest with the sound of her voice imprinted in his mind.

It should make it easy to set her aside, when she turns her soft brown eyes on him and confesses her crimes without any prompting.

“I like you well enough that I feel like you should know, Major.”

“You like me well enough, Mrs. Hewlett?”

She gives the pert nod he has so long admired as being so very Anna, and his eyes crinkle, the only betrayal of how the set of her fine lips still stirs his heart even while they admit to treason.

“I am putting my life in your hands, Edmund.”

His career and duty are in peril, but her life is safe. It should be easy to turn her in and put her aside. But it is not. “Consider it well protected.”

“Do you despise me?” she asks, placing her hand over his, as he has often wished she might.

His mouth twitches and he closes his eyes to avoid the sympathy he sees in her worried look. “I wish I could.”


	2. I Come Here When I Want To Be Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anna x hewlett, tumblr prompt, same 'verse as previous drabble

His boots thud on the wooden cellar steps of Abraham Woodhull’s burned out shell of a house. Having pulled open the doors, Major Hewlett is uncertain what he will meet with inside, although he has an inkling.

The shawl clutched in his hand is his wife’s. He watched her slip it around her back, as she bid him goodbye this morning, his eyes fastening on the way it hung between her elbows across the small of her back, looking not quite warm enough for the early chill of the day. It was found not twenty paces away by one of his men, and brought to him posthaste, because it is no great secret that the Major loves his wife. If something was to happen to her, they all know their superior would be lost.

It is perhaps a better kept secret that his wife does not love him, for she is quite skilled as subterfuge. So skilled that he never suspected the accusations against her to be true until she confessed them herself.

The new Mrs. Hewlett is a complex woman, composed of untold layers. He quite likes that about his wife, in spite of some of those complexities causing him daily indigestion as duty and love war with each other in his breast. Spirited is one thing, but spying and adultery are not amongst the character traits he would have sought out in a helpmate. Which only goes to show that reason has little to do with love.

Anna made the wise choice in accepting his offer of marriage, but her heart is no more reasonable than his own. Mrs. Hewlett feels strongly. She is a passionate woman. It is admirable. Desirable even. She simply does not feel those things for him, and while he wishes it could be otherwise, he is content to find comport in her company and shield her from the consequences of her passions.

Which is what he imagines he might be forced to do today, as he ducks his head down into the cellar lit by a lantern she carried from Whitehall, her quick steps carrying her away from his protection. But as he blinks, adjusting to the lantern’s low light, he can make out that she is alone. Nevertheless, she turns eyes on him rounded as though he has discovered her in the arms of Mr. Woodhull.

“Mrs. Hewlett,” he says, holding out the shawl to her. “You misplaced your shawl.”

“What are you doing here?” she demands with a sharpness to which he is unaccustomed.

She snatches back the shawl and her sweet mouth purses. She is not happy to see him here. Of course she is not. He takes a step backward, allowing her space in this private hidey-hole she and Mr. Woodhull have secured for themselves.

“Forgive my intrusion. One of my men found it,” he says, nodding at the textile, imported from India at some cost as a wedding present. “I thought it better that I come for you than have one of the men stumble across you here.”

At his words, her shoulders sink and she draws breath, pulling the shawl into her bosom. “You were not having me followed?”

“I would never presume to do that.” Although her safety might be better secured if he did. Protecting her lovely neck is no easy task.

“It is best you are not found here, Major,” she says, her brows drawing up together. “For your own good.”

He catches the way her eyes dart to the table at her left, where she has placed the lantern, and he doubts for the first time the nature of this place, taking in the papers and bottles that are out of place in a lovers’ nest.

“What is this place?” he asks, though he knows her answer, as he leans over the table and takes in an unfamiliar script.

She comes to his side and her hand brushes his, where it is clasped behind his back at a safe distance from the treasonous articles spread before them.

“Tell me you do not commit your name to any of these papers, Anna.”

“We take precautions. It is best if you know as little as possible.”

He already knows too much, but he gives her a reassuring nod.

“I couldn’t forgive myself if you were implicated,” she says, sliding one sheet of paper over the others, obscuring the letter at which he helplessly stared down. “After you have been so kind.”

His eyes wrinkle, as he straightens up and takes the edge of her shawl. “It is cold, Mrs. Hewlett. Let me assist you.”

She turns, allowing him to drape the thin shawl around her back, and lowering his voice, he warns her, “You mustn’t come here. Mr. Woodhull is under suspicion. It isn’t safe. Promise me you’ll find some other place.”

She gives a little jerk of her chin. It is no vow, but it lets him draw breath once more. It is not concern for his own well being or even his career that urges him to preach care to her. It is his thundering heart. He can’t lose her, the dearest friend he has ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> I periodically open up for prompts on [tumblr](http://www.justadram.tumblr.com) and would love to write more for this pairing. Feel free to follow me for fic and fangirling.


End file.
